


Thou Shalt Not Covet

by MissGillette



Series: Tilted [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Billy Hargrove, Alpha Steve Harrington, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drugged Sex, Infidelity, Knotting, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Jonathan Byers, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGillette/pseuds/MissGillette
Summary: While on a break with Nancy, Jonathan goes to a party with Steve.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Billy Hargrove, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington
Series: Tilted [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718029
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	Thou Shalt Not Covet

**Author's Note:**

> Big ol' rape warning. Full disclosure: while Jonathan is drugged, Steve and then Billy rape him. Yea. If you somehow missed or ignored the rape warning, think again. It's not violent, but the sex is graphic, and Jonathan does not consent even a little bit. So mind yourselves. It's fiction, and I don't wanna hear about 'Steve would never.' Just click the back button, mate, you don't need to interact with every piece of inflammatory media that slides under your eyeballs. This ain't for you.
> 
> If you follow me on twitter, this is the 'everyone comes in Jonathan' fic I've been teasing lol. Enjoy responsibly.

Someone leads him downstairs to the basement. Jonathan has no reason to stumble down the steps, nasty drink in a red Solo cup, of his own volition. The only people who end up in a basement are people who are having breakdowns or wanting some action. And sure, Jonathan is plenty boozed up to bend another omega over. Fumble with her in the dark. Maybe even a beta, if she’s drunk enough and the lighting is bad. So she can’t tell who’s trying to find the right hole. But Jonathan wouldn’t do that, is too cowed to do that. Loves Nancy too much to do that despite them ‘taking a break.’ But he trusts one person enough at this party to take their hand and let them tug him down the stairs. Laughing. Eyes sparkling and wet from booze. After everything they’ve been through, he trusts Steve Harrington. 

The alpha has proven himself to be more than That Douchebag Steve Harrington. He stuck around for the first demogorgon even when Nancy barked at him to leave. And it takes a lot to ignore a command like that. Even from his fellow alpha, Nancy’s order had him spinning on his Nikes in the dirt by his car. But he came back all the same, helped them kick that thing’s ass. And then when it happened all over again a year later, Steve protected all the kids in the tunnels. Tried to stop them from going down there. In the end, he was a big part of saving Will. Both times. To Jonathan, at the end of the day, Will and Mom are two of the most important people in his life. Right behind Nancy. So, Jonathan trusts Steve to shove a drink at him and then shortly thereafter take him by the hand and draw him to the basement.

Jonathan loses patches of time when his sneakers hit the concrete floor. It’s unfinished. Through the fog in his head, the sweat beading up on his brow despite the chill, he’s surprised the thought occurs to him at all. Maybe it’s the booze. It tastes even more rank than normal. Like someone had thought it would be cute to dump salt in his cup. Maybe someone did when Steve wasn’t looking. It’s been salty the entire time, not that he tastes anymore. His hand still holding the cup trembles at one second and is free in the next. The basement shifts around him, or maybe he drifts on unsteady feet. There’s an old couch down here along with boxes, Christmas decorations. Normal basement shit. The couch is a bit sunken when Jonathan trips, slams his belly into the arm. It knocks the air out of him, and he swims through consciousness. For how long? He’s not sure. His skin is overly hot and sensitive, though. Not unlike a heat creeping up on him. But he’s on blockers. For Nancy’s sake. His heats make her… uncomfortable. So he suppresses them for her. It’s fine. It’s not why they’re on a break or anything.

His skin is hot enough or the basement cool or damp enough for Jonathan to eventually tune into the chilly air on the backs of his thighs. When his jeans had ended up tugged down to his knees, he isn’t sure. He’s still bent over the arm of the couch, legs nearly useless under him as he leans his full weight on his hips. It pinches. More so when big hands on his back urge him to bend over more, to cant his ass higher. Head turned to the left and the shadowed bottom of the stairs, Jonathan wonders who’s getting fucked down here. Who makes those soft whimpers, whose body is slick enough to make filthy squelching noises every time they’re fucked into. Whoever it is, he must be sharing the experience, because the whole of his body is one overly sensitive nerve. And someone won’t stop rubbing him just the right way.

Breaths frantic and voice going high all around him, someone pants, “Jonathan, oh Jesus you’re so tight, mmm feel so good like this…” A deep groan, an alpha letting the pleasure run away from them. “Fuck, ‘m sorry…”

Jonathan’s body calls out to that pleasure. Is he fucking someone? No, his hips keep rubbing into the arm of the couch. Rug burn, a little. And his dick is soft, sort of twitches where it’s stuck also against the arm of the couch. So who the hell is getting fucked in this basement? The pleasure sort of humming through him drops away all at once. Behind him, Steve grunting and shoving his back into a curve, pistons away inside him. He changes the angle, once smearing the head of his long cock against all the right places. Now it just stabs his guts. It must be nice for Steve, because he slams harder into Jonathan. Hard enough to pop Jonathan’s breaths out of his mouth. His lips part around words unspoken.

For what? To ask what’s going on? To ask Steve why he’s doing this? To ask him to stop? Jonathan couldn’t even say his name right now if someone were to ask him. The booze has his tongue too thick and heavy in his mouth. That or maybe something in the booze has him. That’s too awful to think about, though. Steve was the one to throw an arm around him and press the cup to his chest. Insisting with a smile and a tease when Jonathan tried to decline. And then he went and drank half of it in front of Steve until Steve was satisfied. Until Steve stopped tipping the cup to his mouth to ‘help.’ Jonathan lost time upstairs, too, as Steve pulled him by a hand into different rooms, into different clusters of people. Mingling despite everyone ignoring him in favor of hanging on Steve’s every word. He has that power—lighting up and filling a room by just being there. He’s a textbook alpha.

One of the hands on his back slips over his sweaty t-shirt and then gets him by the back of the neck. Long fingers blanket the whole of his nape, dig into the sides of his throat. Not choking him. Just holding him down. Making his entire body go lax under the calming, guarding touch of an alpha he trusts. With Jonathan’s body sagging into the couch, Steve is free to fuck him all the harder. The wooden legs of the couch match Steve’s groans when it goes scooting across the concrete floor. He staggers behind Jonathan and almost slips out. The knot at the base of his cock tries to swell up, and Steve nearly sobs while trying to press his pelvis tightly to Jonathan’s ass. Maybe it’s the booze in Steve that fails him. Maybe it’s nerves. His knot barely swells just inside Jonathan and then deflates entirely. Jonathan doesn’t catch on him, just accepts every drop of Steve’s come when he orgasms with a jolt.

“Jonathan,” Steve whines like he’s hurt. He collapses on top of Jonathan, trapping his sweaty t-shirt between them. In Jonathan’s ear that’s not smashed to the couch, Steve pants, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Belly caught hard in the arm rest, Jonathan barely manages a whimper. You’re hurting me, please stop, please get off me. Steve flinches on top of him, but does not rise to separate them. The flinch is enough to shift his softening cock still buried inside Jonathan. The insides of the poor omega’s cheeks and thighs are soon wet with dribbles of come. Male alphas come a lot, or so he’s heard. Drenched. It’s too wet and slippery for Steve to stay inside him for long. When he’s empty, he almost sobs. Does sob when Steve leans his weight and heat off Jonathan to pry his cheeks open and watch more of his come slip out. To watch Jonathan’s hole clench on nothing. Almost gaping.

“Fuck,” Steve whines.

The omega’s muddled mind can’t keep track of how long Steve lingers. How long Steve cries behind him, like he’s the one who’d been bent over a couch and fucked. Jonathan’s stomach aches where the arm of the couch doesn’t do him any favors. He’s too weak, limbs too heavy to push himself away. Steve sniffles wet and gross at times, but doesn’t slip his hands away from Jonathan’s ass. Heart going a mile a minute despite the boozy calm suffocating him, Jonathan just prays this is over. That Steve won’t touch him anymore, will just zip up and leave. There’s probably a sink down here somewhere. Jonathan can just clean himself up and stumble back to his car. Sit in the wet spot from his ass, try not to think about being split open on Steve’s cock, and drive home. And never speak of this again.

Voice barely above a breath, Steve whispers, “I’m sorry, Jonny. I’m so sorry…”

Steve hasn’t called him that in years. Briefly, blink and you’d miss it, they were… friends. When they were kids. Before Lonny left and made them the trash family of the town. Single mom. Shy brother all the little kids picked on. And Jonathan himself, a real piece of work. More awkward than Will, less likable. Unwanted. When everyone at school had caught wind of Jonathan’s home life crashing and burning, the wool ripped back from their eyes, everyone abandoned him. Even Steve. He was ‘Byers’ after that. He was sneers at recess after that. He was having his lunch shoved off the cafeteria tables after that. All while goons and stooges surrounded Steve to do his bidding. They weren’t even old enough to present yet. But already Steve gathered his clout and wielded it well. Even against his little boy crush Jonny.

Steve sniffs hard one more time before stepping away. His hands remain on Jonathan’s burning skin for as long as they can. Fingertips are the last things to touch him. And then Steve is gone, frantic as he shoves himself back in his jeans and then stumbles up the stairs like a party girl in heels. The door at the top of the stairs goes flying open. Light pierces the shadows, blinds Jonathan still bent over the couch. A roar of applause, Steve returning to the party, stampedes down the steps. Steve slapping or kicking the door shut seals it all up. Cutting Jonathan off from the light, from sound. From Steve. Steve is done with him. Got what he’s always wanted. A taste of what he can’t have.

Jonathan won’t fool himself. Even with a massive headache blooming behind his eyes and his mouth tasting foul, he won’t fool himself. He’s always known about Steve’s crush on him. Maybe Steve has never liked another boy since. It would make sense, seeing that until the whole demogorgon and Barb thing that Steve was nothing but a bastard to him since they were kids. Angry at Jonathan for making him a little queer, huh? Jonathan being an omega doesn’t help. Doesn’t hurt, but doesn’t help. Steve only likes omega pussy, everybody knows that. Jonathan has never been of the gay persuasion, always wanted a pretty girl like his alpha. Nancy is everything he’s ever wanted… Would she hate him for what Steve did? Feel betrayed? Jonathan bites back a mournful sound at the thought as he slowly pushes himself off his chest.

Behind him, deeper in the shadows, the flint of a lighter sparks. And then a flame. And then the Zippo clicks shut.

The darkness parts around a silhouette as boots step forward. Jonathan tries to rock his weight back, to catch himself on his feet. His jeans and underwear are still caught around his knees. Exposed. Heat catches the back of his head, though, and guides him right back down to the couch. Bending over again, although the thick fingers threaded in his hair are the only points of contact. The other hand is busy with a cigarette at devilish lips. They catch the orange glow of the ember bobbing. The glow reveals a wicked grin around sharp teeth and tongue. Billy Hargrove laughs through the cloud of his exhale.

“Jonathan Byers, I’m not sure if we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Billy’s right hand in his hair isn’t rough. Doesn’t hurt him. The moment Jonathan tries to lift his head against the alpha’s strength, though, Billy reminds him who is stronger. Jonathan isn’t going anywhere. “It’s a shame it had to be under such… unfortunate circumstances. Did you like the little drink Stevie set you up with? Tasted kinda salty, didn’t it.”

It’s not a question. Jonathan still can’t get his voice to work, goes sagging under Billy’s hand and lets out a mournful curl of a moan. So Steve had drugged him after all. A tiny part of him, a part eternally grateful for Steve helping to save Will, hoped he was imagining it.

“You know,” Billy sighs, drops his cigarette to the concrete to stamp it out, “when King Steve walked up to me and asked if I knew anybody who would sell him a roofie, I didn’t think he would actually use it. Seems like too much of a candy ass to do it, you know?” The wet sound of Billy licking his teeth. “Or maybe he’d use it on himself and finally get fucked like he wants, yea?”

Jonathan groans with his eyes full. He wishes Nancy were here. That she would be worried about him and come looking for him. His petite alpha is no match for Billy, not with her bare hands. But maybe she would save him from all this…

Short nails scratch his scalp as Billy sucks his teeth and simpers, “Oh, come on now, don’t be like that. Don’t cry on me. From where I was standing, it seemed like Steve showed you a good time. Certainly made a mess outta that tight hole of yours.” Billy’s fingers stop in his hair. “Or am I wrong?”

Left hand free, he slips it between Jonathan’s legs, gathers up Steve’s come gone cold, and then gives Jonathan’s soft dick a few strokes.

“Oh, guess I was wrong,” Billy says with a few chuckles bubbling up in his words. “That wasn’t very nice of him, was is,  _ Jonny _ ?”

Jonathan doesn’t need light or to have his head turned to the left, eyes wide like a scared animal, to pick up the meanness in Billy’s words. To pick up the alpha’s grin in the dark, teeth gnashing like a wolf’s. Jonathan’s left shoulder curls up towards his face, trying to shield himself. To make himself smaller. Billy still doesn’t touch him anywhere but his thin hair, but the musk of his interest crawls with rough fingers into his mouth, down his throat. Billy has been here the whole time. Watched them from the shadows as Steve dragged him stumbling down here, shoved him over the arm of the couch, and fucked him fast and raw. Didn’t even catch on Steve’s knot, a mercy. Billy doesn’t need to press along the wet skin of Jonathan’s ass and thighs for Jonathan to know he’s hard. The sights and sounds excited him. He’s still hard.

Another sigh as Billy’s hand slips out of his hair. The bright twinkle of a belt buckle. The low growl of a zipper dropping. And then Billy’s hands reappear at Jonathan’s hips. Steve hadn’t grabbed him here. Never held him during their brief, violent moment together. Steve pinned him down by his back and his neck. Like Jonathan needed to be held down. No, Billy hums and yanks Jonathan back by his hips, ruts his hard cock through Steve’s mess. The mess Steve made of him, mostly come with a little bit of Jonathan’s slick. He’s wet enough to be fucked again. Loose now thanks to Steve. Jonathan’s hands claw into the couch as his thighs shake under his weight, under Billy rutting against him.

From on high, Billy hums through a groan and says, “Can’t have that. Not fair that he got his while you didn’t get yours, don’t you think?” His left hand slips free, and then the nudges of that blood-hot head turn into firm swipes. Billy presses to the softness of Jonathan’s used hole. He’s still sore from Steve, starts to open with barely any pressure. “Fuck, Jonny boy, no wonder Steve went to town on you.” His groan bounces off the ceiling as Jonathan’s body sucks him down. “Bet Steve just thought he was fucking some girl’s pussy.”

It’s not the same. Jonathan knows that. Even as loose as he is from Steve, isn’t not the same. His face blushes heavily in the dark as he recalls the one or two times Nancy has let him. She doesn’t like it, though. And what she doesn’t like, he falls in line with her. But it’s not the same, and the idea that Billy thinks someone could mistake the two would normally amuse Jonathan. Get a snort of laughter out of him. Because everybody thinks Billy is a lady killer. The way he hounds Steve and is always in his face, up his ass, aggressive and posturing? Jonathan would bet it all on the contrary. Even more so when Billy slams them together and starts to run his mouth.

“You shoulda seen him all nervous when he was buying the roofie off me.” He pauses long enough to adjust Jonathan in his hands, hiking the omega’s ass higher, fucking down and into him. They’re loud together. Messy. “Sweaty fucker, all jumpy. No idea he wanted to use it on you. Glad I got to watch, though. Steve gave me a good show.” He slows down then to roll his hips into Jonathan, squeezing the omega when he flinches and muffles a moan in his mouth. A real one. “Yea, right there, that’s what you want. He was hitting it good for a little bit and then fucked it up. Didn’t even have the courtesy to make you come, poor Jonny boy.”

The scorn and pity mix with Billy’s dick hitting him in all the right places. He’d found it so easily, doesn’t miss or give Jonathan a break while dragging his cock back and forth over the omega’s prostate. Steve fucking him just before had been the first time. Well, his first time of someone fucking his ass. He doesn’t force that on Nancy, either ignores that need when he huddles to her chest and scent while in heat. Or, full of shame, he’ll hide away in the bathroom and finger himself while she waits for him. Worried. She’s offered. But Jonathan is used to taking care of himself. And he knows she doesn’t like it. It’s why he’s on blockers after all.

Billy shoves him to the arm rest once more, sort of humping into him. He then drapes the heavy, hot weight of himself along Jonathan’s back. Crushing him. Jonathan whines under the strain and wiggles to get away. Or to change the angle, since now Billy is just weight and pressure inside him. No longer making him pant or making his head swim. 

“That monster dick of his is wasted on him, don’t you think, Jonny?” Billy purrs in his ear, lips tickling the blushing shell. “You’d be the envy of almost every omega upstairs. They’re still wet for him even after I wiped the floor with him a year ago, didn’t figure out why until tonight.” Billy snaps his hips hard into Jonathan, fucking a cry out of him. Finally unlocking Jonathan’s teeth around his moans. Even lower, the alpha murmurs to him, “He’s got good dick game, just needs to work on his technique. I’ll show you what it’s really like to have an alpha knot this pussy of yours.”

Billy is hot and crushing him one second and then gone the next. Jonathan is empty so fast, cold along the backs of his thighs, that he chokes on a gasp. It doesn’t last, though. Billy would be impressively strong even if he weren’t an alpha. That fact just tips him over the edge. He curls a bulging arm under Jonathan’s hips and spins the world around him. Or maybe he spins Jonathan around the world, how knows. All Jonathan’s murky, frightened brain knows is that at once he is bent over, flat on his belly with his ass up. Presenting himself. The next, his tailbone rests on the arm of the couch and Billy has him by the ankles, tearing his shoes and clothes off.

He’s naked from the waist down when Billy purrs above him and drags him that much closer. Jonathan’s ass hangs off the arm of the couch. Billy makes it even a tighter squeeze when he hefts Jonathan’s legs over his shoulders. Jonathan has fucked Nancy a few times like this. It makes his head swim with heat, to know Billy looks down on him in the dim light and sees him all spilled out on the couch. On his back. Still wet and aching to be filled again. It’s a terrible thing, to know how badly his body craves the fullness of a knot. Steve couldn’t measure up. As Billy shakes his left hand free one more time to guide them back together, Jonathan already knows Billy won’t fall short.

When Jonathan whimpers at the spread of his body welcoming Billy back inside him, the alpha shushes him. Almost gently.

“That’s right, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. I know I feel good inside you, Jonny, I know,” Billy coos to him, flat belly nestled once more against Jonathan’s ass. He widens his stance and pops his hips forward just once. Rough hands dig into Jonathan’s bent waist as Billy holds him down and rocks into him, finds that angle that makes Jonathan’s eyes flutter and roll back in his head, tilting his chin up. Baring his neck. “Steve wasn’t very nice to you at all, was he? It’s better like this, with someone facing you while they hold you down and fill you up. Right, Jonny?”

Billy picks up the pace on the heels of his saccharine words. Hands fisted above his head on the couch, Jonathan shakes his head between his arms.

“Don’t lie to me now, cupcake, I know you like this. If I were Steve you’d be begging for this knot.” Billy’s laugh is mean and cutting, worse when he moans with his voice thrown high, “Fuck me, Steve, fuck me! Nobody fucks me like you, fill me up and breed me alpha, please!”

Jonathan shakes his head again. No, no, that’s not true. He loves Nancy, they’re just… they’re just going through a rough patch. Nancy has big dreams, dreams that stretch beyond the four walls of Hawkins. Jonathan aspires to escape, too, but his family is here. He wants to stay here, try to make the best of it. He doesn’t want her to leave him behind. Like everyone else. Everyone leaves. Jonathan’s eyes sting more than he can bear, and he chokes on a sob. Why did Steve have to do this to him? Why did Steve have to welcome this madness into his life? Jonathan would have been content to go their whole lives without touching on the subject of Steve’s crush. Honestly? He thought it was over and done, buried in the backyards of their childhood like so many Lassies and Spots. Apparently not. Steve wants him enough to drug him and rape him at a party. And Billy Hargrove picks up the spare.

Billy slips a sweaty hand free from Jonathan’s waist to brush hair out of his eyes. Jonathan flinches away, gritting his teeth through tears that squeeze out. Billy catches them on the rough curl of his knuckles and… pets them away. Again and again, each time one falls, Billy is there to wipe them clean. He doesn’t stop rocking back and forth through the wet, stretched rim of him. But he’s not mean about it. It’s somehow worse than Billy mocking him.

The angle doesn’t allow Billy to hover over him or sweep down closer. Somehow, though, his voice is directly in Jonathan’s ear when he murmurs, “Can’t always get what we want, Jonny boy. If it helps, pretend I’m that bitchy alpha of yours.” He huffs and rolls his hips faster, panting now as he works Jonathan harder. “Just between us girls? Steve’s not the only one who wants what he can’t have.”

Head thrown back, Jonathan lets it all out. Sobs and moans and cries, his voice breaking through harder thrusts against his sweet spot. Billy isn’t hitting it dead on anymore, doesn’t need to to drive Jonathan wild and make his toes curl. Jonathan keeps up his cries if only to block out the wet slap of skin on skin. Billy once more bruises him with his grip on Jonathan’s waist, thundering into him like an animal. Panting and grunting like one, too. When Jonathan tries to move, to meet Billy’s rhythm and hurry this along, the alpha growls him right back into submission. It’s a growl he’s heard once or twice from Nancy, and he goes limp under Billy just like for his alpha. Billy must like it, purrs so loudly in the dark space above Jonathan, fucks into his wet hole all the harder. It’s enough to wind Jonathan up, get his insides coiling tightly despite no one having touched his dick. Could he come soft like this?

Billy doesn’t let him wonder about that. The silver wrapped around his middle finger is a brand on velvety skin when he takes to jerking Jonathan off. It hurts, is too dry for how fast Billy’s fist flies over him. But he pinches and squeezes and plays with the wetness at Jonathan’s head just right. Making it good enough for his prick to stand up hard and straight. If Jonathan weren’t an omega, his balls would draw up, ready to come. Instead, when Billy digs his thumb nail into the slit of his dick, Jonathan’s body convulses and spills opaque ejaculate over his stomach. His shirt has ridden up with Billy manhandling him. It won’t stain his shirt, just grows cold and sticky on his sweaty skin. Between them, Billy’s hips start to falter. His thrusts turn short like he doesn’t want to leave. Breathing hard, he stumbles closer to the couch and pops his knot in with a groan, trembling as he arches his hips into Jonathan and starts to come.

Voice bouncing off the ceiling again, Billy groans, “Steve,” and shivers with every pulse that floods Jonathan. His hands turn gentle where they hold Jonathan down, and Billy whispers under his breath, “Fucking damn it, you feel good…”

Like with Steve, Jonathan cannot feel Billy coming in him. That would be ridiculous, something out of a bad porno. Still, he flinches and tightens around the knot heavy in him with every twitch of Billy’s hips. Swallowing hard, Jonathan tips his head back to stare at the dark ceiling. Almost too dark to make out the exposed beams of the floor joists. Jonathan’s face is still wet with tears, and he sniffles in the dark. Billy’s sigh is entirely too loud for the quiet of the basement. No more moaning, no more slick sounds of them fucking. He grumbles, too, and his fingers shake a little when they shove tears of Jonathan’s cheeks. Even when Jonathan turns his face away to deny Billy, the alpha doesn’t take too kindly to that. He pops his hips forward to rub his knot along Jonathan’s walls, earning him a sharp gasp.

“Yea, that’s what I thought,” he drawls in the thick darkness. “No use acting like a little bitch now, cupcake. I’ll treat you like one if you’re gonna be that way. It’s your choice.”

Jonathan bottles his tremor for later—when he’s alone and cleaning himself up—and leans his cheek into Billy’s fingers. Appeasement. Submission.

“Good boy,” is his purred reward. 

They stay that way with Billy flush to his body, heavy inside him, as the alpha pets his hair and thumbs tears off his cheeks. Billy is nice enough to lower Jonathan’s rubbery legs to hook them on his hips instead. It shifts the angle, has Jonathan whimpering and panting as Billy’s knot presses harder on his walls. If Billy wants to be mean, he can make Jonathan come again just like this. Jonathan goes cold with adrenaline, expects Billy to do just that.

He doesn’t, though. No his right hand is content with petting the hair on Jonathan’s inner thigh while the left returns to its comforting duty at Jonathan’s face. His gentleness blows the panicked wind right out of Jonathan’s sails. He stares up at the dark ceiling once more, eyes following footsteps above that send the floorboards creaking under carpet. Billy cups his cheek at the same time as he holds Jonathan down to pop out of him. So Billy feels Jonathan clench his jaw over a mournful cry. Jonathan’s body immediately tries to tighten on nothing. The moment he does, come dribbles down his ass and makes a wet spot where Jonathan’s tailbone rests on the couch. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that he’ll have to limp through the jeering crowd of his peers upstairs smelling freshly fucked—twice. Doesn’t care about how his clothes will stink of sex, how he stinks of sex. Until he huddles in the bath back home—please let Will be asleep—he can’t care about any of this. Not until he’s safe.

Sighing, Billy claps him twice on the cheek and then pulls away entirely. Jonathan’s legs dangle towards the floor without support. His toes almost touch the concrete. Billy flicks his lighter to life and searches the basement for something to wipe up with. Jonathan doesn’t expect Billy to help him, so it doesn’t hurt when the alpha meets his expectations. Billy is as put back together as he’s going to get—tucked back into his jeans and zipped, belt slung back through the loops. He’ll probably claim he’d fucked some omega girl down here. Won’t be the first time the rumor mill has spread that one around. Jonathan allows himself a moment to think back on all the times he heard such a thing. Jonathan wonders who Billy actually fucked all those times. Thinking about Steve while he did it.

“Cheer up, Jonny boy. Steve will leave you alone when he smells me all over you. Let him get a good whiff.” Billy's voice rolls over gravel as he chuckles. He lights another cigarette because he can. It bobs on his lip when he adds, “I don’t mind taking him off your hands. I fucked you better than he did anyway. He didn’t even stick around to make you come. Makes a fella wonder…”

The fanfare when Billy surfaces from the basement is even louder and wilder than Steve’s reception. Billy’s cackle joins the din, and he kicks the door shut behind him, too. Plunging Jonathan into blissful, merciful darkness. It gives him a moment to lie there and reflect. To collect the shattered pieces of himself up off the floor and try to slot them back into place. He cuts his fingers on them while redressing, has to lean his sore hip against the couch or fall over. The back of his neck throbs from Steve’s hand, too. If he thinks about that, though, he’ll lose his mind. He’d trusted the alpha so much, thought Steve was his friend, Steve fucking helped save Will, why would he do this?

When Jonathan tapes himself together enough to slip from the party, no one stops him as he leaves. No one even turns an eye on him when he emerges from the basement. If anyone notices, they probably think he was playing peeping tom on Steve and Billy scoring. It suits him. The outcast. The other, always on the dim periphery of their little town. He’d killed his brother, they claimed. He stalked Nancy, they cried. Maybe it’s time he listens to his alpha and reconsider his connection to this place. There’s nothing for him, here. Nothing that wants him, anyway. Mom and Will are only ever a phone call away, a weekend trip down from Chicago.

Jonathan isn’t sure how he gets home. Whatever Steve had bought off Billy to drug him, it clouds his head long after being fucked. Twice. He’s sitting in his car at the party. When he looks up, he’s parked in the dirt and gravel in front of his house. He doesn’t question it. After scrubbing himself until the water goes cold, the first thing Jonathan does when he stumbles from the bathroom is call Nancy.

“What’s wrong?” She asks immediately. She knows him so well, knows he’s been crying and miserable.

“Nothing, I-I just… I was thinking about us and… I-I changed my mind,” he says with his voice rough and raked over the coals. Crying into his hands will do that. “About Chicago.”

“… Are you sure?”

It’s what she wants. And what she wants is good for him, too. She’s the only person who’s ever loved him.

The tremor Jonathan had bottled while Billy fucked him leaks out of him, now. Jonathan leans heavily on the wall where the phone rests on its hooks and wishes Nancy were here. If only to paint over his fresh memories of Steve’s hands on him, Billy’s fingers in his hair. Of alphas other than her fucking him.

“I’m sure,” he pleads with his voice going thick. “I wanna get out of here, I wanna leave. Please Nancy, just… take me with you. Don’t leave me here.”

“I won’t, I promise I won’t. I love you so much, sweetie.”

He goes sliding down the wall despite the pain between his legs and curls up around the phone pressed to his ear.

“I know. I love you too. So much… I wish I could see you, I miss you.”

He can never fool her. She sees right through him even though they’re far apart.

“Something happened at the party, didn’t it.”

“Yes,” he whispers, so small.

“I’m borrowing my mom’s car. I’ll be there soon.”

No questions asked, no begging her. She hangs up after that, fierce across town. Jonathan just lets the phone go, mindless to the busy tone yelling at him. He keeps it all together until Nancy pads across the old house and finds him on the floor. After that, he only knows the warm scent of her pressed to his face and her hands in his hair and he shakes apart. He does not scream, but he does cry clinging to her back like Will is dying all over again. Only it’s his turn, now. Don’t let me go, don’t let me go, don’t leave! She stays right there on the floor with him until his crying runs out and he sleeps, dreaming of nothing.


End file.
